On A Night Like This
by New York Hope
Summary: How two different nights and two different men changed Angelina Johnson's world around.
1. On A Night Like This: Christmas 1994

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the story or the universe the story takes place in, I'm just borrowing them for personal amusement.

**On A Night Like This**

Summary: How two different nights and two different men changed Angelina Johnson's world around.

Rating: PG-13

* * *

><p><span>On A Night Like This:<span>

Angelina & Graham

Christmas 1994

The Weird Sisters' music filled the Great Hall and Angelina Johnson could see the Yule Ball was a great success. She was certain there was plenty of 'international magical cooperation' going on in the dark corners of the castle and under the cover of the enchanted rosebushes outside. Her own date was bridging the gap between France and England as he received private lessons in the French art of kissing by the Beauxbaton witch she'd pointed out to him earlier.

Fred Weasley had proven himself a gentleman for the evening, something she supposed took great effort on his part, after he had been kind enough to ask her to the ball when there were certainly several other real dates he could've taken in her place. But he had asked her to go when no one else dared since Angelina Johnson was still Oliver Wood's girlfriend, regardless of Wood's absence from Hogwarts and ineligibility to attend the ball. She had cut him a break when she'd seen the pretty French witch eyeing her ginger date from across the room and sent him on his way to 'have a bit of fun'. Angelina ran her finger along the rim of her glass of pumpkin juice, watching the other students dance wildly to the loud music; Alicia and George were dancing, her arms around his neck securely while he was saying something that was making her body shake with laughter and Angelina could see over to the drink table where Graham Montague was chatting with the other Slytherin Chasers, nursing a bottle of butterbeer. For a second, she caught his eye across the Great Hall.

For the past six years, Angelina had sat in classes with Graham Montague and they had never spoken much except to trade barbs on behalf of wronged teammates, but Angelina had never felt animosity towards the Chaser; not like with Flint or Warrington, who had always tried to get a rise out of her with leering comments or rude behavior. The cancellation of the Quidditch tournament nearly broke her heart and then not being named Hogswarts champion had succeeded in convincing Angelina it would be an awful year. Montague had approached her one evening on the pitch when she was alone with a proposal to put aside house conflict, since the Cup was suspended anyway, and train together. He had somehow known that she wanted to pursue a League career and Angelina supposed he assumed she would follow her boyfriend to Puddlemere. She had found that a lot of people seemed to think that she would spend her life riding on Wood's coat tails, disregarding anything they knew about her before she began dating the Keeper. She had accepted his arrangement on the basis that their friends didn't know about the meetings, Angelina wasn't sure she could deal with the twins' criticism. Thus, their secret friendship had begun and Angelina often wondered how many other Slytherin/Gryffindor pairs had been forced into hiding due to house prejudices.

Angelina looked away from the knot of Slytherin boys when a pale, blond witch in grey dress robes sidled up to Montague and decided that she needed some fresh air, the hall was starting to become quite warm from all the night's exertions. She exited the Great Hall, passing a fourth-year Hufflepuff crying on the steps with her girlfriends, and moved slowly outside to the courtyard to admire the twinkling fairy lights and appreciate the cool air and the fresh scent of winter. Professor Flitwick had created a beautiful garden for the ball and mother nature had provided a fresh coat of powdery snow as a finishing touch. It was breathtaking.

She walked along one of the winding paths created by the rosebushes and after a few moments heard footsteps behind her. Angelina turned around to find Graham Montague standing a few feet away, looking quite fetching in his dark dress robes, holding two bottles of unopened butterbeer. They stood in silence for a moment eyeing each other uncertainly, the only sounds were the distant music from the Great Hall and the gentle splash of the fountain behind her.

Finally she spoke, "Where's Morgan?" referring to his Slytherin date.

"Don't know," Graham shrugged, "I saw Weasley with that French witch and thought you'd want company."

"Someone can see us."

"No one's looking," he moved closer to her a couple steps.

Angelina looked around, the few people who were close enough to identify them were obviously engaged in each other and paying no attention to the unlikely pair.

"Sit," Graham ordered and pressed one of the bottles into her hand as he moved by her to take a seat on the edge of a fountain depicting a merry elf with water spraying out of its palm. Angelina took a seat beside him and opened her drink.

"Thank you," she said quietly, unsure how to act. They had never spoken in public before, usually down on the pitch while they trained or, on occasion, in the classroom when it was unavoidable.

"You enjoying your Christmas?" Graham inquired politely, taking a long drink.

Angelina chuckled, "I shared a cracker with Katie earlier and got a new Weird Sisters' top. That was quite nice."

"You're a fan then?"

"You're not?"Angelina whirled around to face him, shock written on every feature.

"I don't get why a band of wizards call themselves 'The Weird _Sisters_'," Graham grimaced and Angelina laughed, she didn't have an answer for him.

"You're one of those girls who goes mad for Wagtail, aren't you?" Graham laughed when Angelina made a face and corrected himself, "No, you fancy Quidditch players, not singers. I bet you sneak about the castle following Krum around, trying to pick up a sweets wrapper that he touched?"

"I think you're mistaking me for that Malfoy git," Angelina pointed out, referring to the Slytherin Seeker's love for the Durmstrang champion, "Besides, I fancy one Quidditch player, not plural."

Graham didn't need to be a genius to catch onto the reminder that the witch before him was still very much attached to her former Captain and off-limits to the likes of him. He smiled at her, "You look lovely tonight, I'm sure Wood's wishing he was here tonight. He's a lucky man, you know."

She'd taken great care into her appearance that evening. Her long black hair had been painstakingly straightened and smoothed with liberal amounts of potion before being tied up in a braided knot and the emerald satin of her dress robes went well with her coloring. Part of her was loathe to admit that her hard work had not been solely for the photograph she'd sent to Oliver with his Christmas present, but because she'd been bothered when Graham told her he was taking some Slytherin bint as his date and she didn't have a date at the time.

"I suppose," Angelina blushed under his approving gaze.

"He is," Graham assured her and then suddenly stood and held out his hand to her, "I've been wanting a dance all night, I'm sure Wood wouldn't want his girl to be sitting all alone on Christmas."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want me dancing with a Slytherin," Angelina argued playfully, "Besides aren't you worried I might scuff your very expensive, shiny shoes."

Graham chuckled, "Well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

After a beat, Angelina took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her against his chest and slip his arm around her waist. She replied in kind, wrapping one long slender arm over his shoulder around his neck. They swayed to the distant music, not speaking.

Angelina closed her eyes and breathed in his scent: a mixture of some spicy aftershave and, even in dress robes, grass. It was very similar to Oliver's scent, she supposed it must be a Quidditch thing and wondered if she smelled of grass as well. Graham's fingers moved in small circles over the smooth satin and she enjoyed the sensation. Angelina could feel his heart pounding in his chest underneath their clasped hands and it stirred up a curious sense of longing for closeness.

She missed Oliver dearly. She had been dreadfully spoiled the previous year when they were at school together. She had never thought of how different or difficult it would be when she still had two years left at Hogwarts and he was off playing for Puddlemere's reserve team. Since school began, she had seen him once during the Hogsmeade weekend at Halloween and while his letters were long and frequent, she missed being held and she missed the flirting banter they used to enjoy. Parchment could only convey so much.

She had been shocked when Graham had proposed training together and they'd found it ridiculously easy to put aside House differences when they were alone and could talk about their teams or plans to try out for the League. It had been a mutually beneficial arrangement and she found the quiet and determined way he worked to be refreshing after years with the noisy Gryffindor team. He'd taught her how even she could strong arm a Chaser of his size out of the way and she'd shared with him of bit of the grace she'd always shown in the air. She sometimes wondered how different things would've been had circumstances had allowed them to be friends over the past six years.

Graham rested his cheek against hers lightly, enjoying the press of her smooth skin. She was quite tall, a departure from his previous dance partners, and he didn't know where to rest his cheek, as it usually rested against his partner's hair. The skin-to-skin contact seemed very intimate and he was acutely aware of the dangerous territory he was venturing into. He was also aware of how right she felt in his arms and how much he'd come to admire her over the years they'd known each other for her skill on the pitch and her grace in the air. She was brilliant on the pitch and off of it, he knew he wasn't the only wizard unable to take their eyes off her. Oliver Wood obviously knew that too.

The reminder that he gave himself felt like eating a whole case of ice mice. Angelina was off-limits. Graham Montague had been raised a gentleman by his mother, a witch from the noble Rosiers line, and he would not behave in an unseemly manner. Graham also held a deep level or respect for Oliver Wood. As a Chaser under Marcus Flint, one learned to appreciate good organizational skills and leadership when they saw it.

The music changed from the slow tune to something more along the lines of the band's usual style. Montague released Angelina reluctantly and saw a glimmer of something in her honey-colored eyes for a second. The cold winter air hit her suddenly, their proximity having driven away the December chill, and she felt something stir at the loss of contact. Angelina turned suddenly towards the fountain to vanish their empty bottles of butterbeer, not wanting him to see her face. She turned quickly when Graham grabbed her hand unexpectedly and she instinctively closed her fingers around the small velvet pouch he pressed into it.

"Happy Christmas, Johnson," Montague said abruptly and with the swish of dress robes, he turned and strode away quickly back towards the castle.

Angelina watched him go confused at his sudden departure before she remembered the parcel he'd given her. She perched on the edge of the fountain and opened the small black pouch, the velvet soft under her fingers, and turned it over so its contents slipped into her lap. Angelina grinned as she held up the silver bracelet, catching it briefly in the moonlight, and fingers the delicate silver broomstick hanging from it. The metal was cool to her touch due to the night's chill setting in and she tucked it back into its warm pouch, which was slipped inside her robes for safe keeping.

On the first day of term, Angelina made sure that the silver bracelet was prominent on her left wrist as she made her way down to NEWT Potions, where she shared her table with Graham due to the odd number of Gryffindors. She knew he saw the bracelet when she passed him a bowl of scarab beetles, his eyes lingering on the charm for a moment before he returned to his work with a small smile.

They never talked about the bracelet, but Angelina wore it every day for twenty-five years until she passed it onto her daughter, Roxanne, when she was made the Captain of her House team.


	2. On A Night Like This: March 1997

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the story or the universe the story takes place in, I'm just borrowing them for personal amusement.

**On A Night Like This**

Summary: How two different nights and two different men changed Angelina Johnson's world around.

Rating: PG-13

* * *

><p><span>On A Night Like This:<span>

Angelina & Oliver

March 1997

A loud crack echoed through the small flat jolting Angelina Johnson awake. She fumbled for a moment in the dark and retrieved her wand from her nightstand, igniting the tip to cast a dull glow around the room. Angelina slid out of bed and wished, for just a second, that Graham was home and not on a different continent for an American League match. She padded to the door of her bedroom and opened it slowly, her wand held out poised to attack. She could make out a figure leaning against the kitchen counter and lit the lights with a wave of her wand. The figure whirled around with their own wand held out unsteadily towards her and Angelina dropped her wand in shock.

Blood covered the right side of Oliver Wood's face and the light showed clearly that it continued down his entire side, his button down changing from soft white cotton to a sticky wet scarlet across his chest.

"Montague?" Oliver croaked out as he visibly struggled to stay on his feet.

"He's gone," Angelina whispered, "He's abroad for work. What the hell happened to you?"

Oliver lowered his wand, which Angelina now realized had pointed not at her but towards the bedroom where Oliver expected Graham Montague to emerge, "Attack... I'm sorry to show up...first place I thought of...got splinched..."

Oliver winced in pain and with that he lost his grip on the counter, collapsing to the floor. Angelina waved her wand to summon medical supplies from the bathroom and dropped to the floor beside him, trying to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands. Finally she undid them magically and peeled back the sides carefully, the fabric clinging to his chest due to the blood. Oliver roared a bit in pain as the shirt peeled off some of his numerous open wounds. She fought the urge to look away and set about mending the several places where it appeared that bits of Oliver's flesh has been taken out by an ice cream scoop. She quickly exhausted her supply of dittany on his arms and chest and was able to remove his trousers to see that the damage to his legs was no less severe. Several spells and salves later, Angelina managed to clean Oliver up and bandage the worst of his injuries. From where he laid in the living room, he did not make much sense and she wasn't sure he remembered where he was after passing out briefly while she fixed him up. He laid there with his head in her lap, mumbling something about phoenixes.

Angelina wondered if he were wishing for their tears, which had amazing healing abilities. Angelina tossed her empty bottle of dittany and other salves in the bin, knowing it would've helped tonight to have a phoenix on hand. They were incredibly rare and expensive pets. She still didn't know what Wood was doing in her flat in the middle of the night or what had transpired to lead him there, but he was still her friend and required her help. So she went about cleaning up the kitchen and keeping an eye on him, not entirely comfortable with his state of undress now that she had located all his wounds and stopped the bleeding.

Angelina had just put on the kettle for tea when Oliver spoke again, his words clearer, "I need to go. I can't be here, it was a mistake."

"It's safe here," Angelina protested, hurrying to his side to push him back onto the sofa.

"It's the home of a Death Eater," Wood sighed, his eyes traveling to the Montague family crest painted on the coffee table, "It's not safe for me."

Oliver stumbled to his feet and retrieved his wand from the kitchen counter. He paused a moment to regain his strength, having been tapped out by the short walk on his burning leg, and realize that she did not deny her partner's allegiances.

"He is one of _them_, then?" Oliver asked harshly, not turning to look at her.

Angelina didn't lie, "Yes."

For the first time in his life, Oliver felt disgusted by the woman he'd loved for so long. Repulsed that she would share her life, her bed and her body with someone who would... Oliver shut his mind to the memories of what he'd just seen before his escape.

He turned on Angelina, his grey eyes blazing, "I nearly died tonight, fighting _them_, and I came to you for help because when I needed someone you were the first person I thought of! Meanwhile, you're _fucking_ one of them?"

"He's not like the rest of them," Angelina defended, "You don't know what it's like to be that close to You-Know-Who's circle. They would've killed him if he didn't or me. Graham had no choice but to join, he did it to protect us. He truly believes it's the safest thing for us with Dumbledore gone."

Angelina had never seen such a look of loathing on Oliver's face directed at her before and for the first time she questioned her relationship with Graham Montague. Oliver strode to the the small balcony off her kitchen and opened the door enough to allow the silver badger that burst from his wand to depart into the night sky. He didn't say anything for a long moment. Angelina wasn't sure if he was trying to control his anger or if he was that weakened from his limited movement.

Oliver ran a hand over his face before he looked up at her. Angelina met his eyes and saw there just how much had changed in Wood. He seemed harder than before, more worn out and stretched too thin. She saw darkness and anger in his eyes where there used to laughter and light. His right arm and leg now sported several red stretches of new skin covering his wounds and Angelina could identify several older scars that she suspected were not from his once-promising Quidditch career.

Oliver allowed her to study him, unashamed and unembarrassed to be standing in naught but his boxer shorts. His body had in the last year of the war become a history of skirmishes and battles that went unreported. If she looked close enough she'd see where 'Bloodt' had been carved into his shoulder, a job that went unfinished due to the timely arrival of Charlie Weasley, Oliver's old friend and Captain.

"What have you been doing?" Angelina pleaded.

"My part," Wood replied cryptically. "Can I use your shower?"

Angelina nodded wordlessly and showed him to the bathroom off the bedroom she shared with Graham. She noted how quickly he moved through their space and shut himself into her bathroom without as much as a glance around the preceding room. He had never quite forgiven her for falling in love with someone else. Angelina moved around the small room to tidy up while she heard the shower running in the next room. The small chores kept her mind from thinking too closely about the battered body she'd just healed and examined. She laid out a pair of Graham's sweats and an old tee-shirt of hers, that she suspected may have actually _been_ Oliver's, before going into the living room to cry quietly about the night's events. It wouldn't do for Oliver to see her so distraught by his condition.

Oliver held in a string of swears when the hot water first hit his fresh wounds, stinging like needles wherever the spray made contact. After a moment, the pain subsided and soon the heat began to work its magic on his aching body. His eyes locked on the razor in the shower and the masculine bottle of shampoo that rested beside the honey-scented potion that he knew to be Angelina's favorite brand. He should never have come, he recognized, it was a huge risk since he wasn't sure Montague hadn't been home when he Apparated into the sitting room. But he hadn't felt such a keen _need_ for Angelina in a long time...

Oliver wasn't sure that Montague hadn't been at the skirmish outside Edinburgh, but Warrington had been and the two used to be teammates at Hogwarts. Angelina believed her boyfriend to be 'abroad for work', but Oliver wasn't in the business of trusting the word of Death Eaters. Oliver turned off the water and clambered out of the stall to wrap himself in a fluffy white towel and examined himself in the mirror. He hadn't thought much about the changes in him... with a War going on there wasn't time to think of how it changed you until it was over and the changes were permanent.

He'd been on Puddlemere for about almost two years when Charlie Weasley showed up at his door, wanting to have a drink and talk about 'old times'. It had been a long night and Charlie shared stories about the things he'd heard abroad and Oliver shared the things he heard around the League. The Keeper for Pride of Portee had vanished under mysterious circumstances and Wood had been approached by a reporter about his own blood status, an odd impertinent question. Charlie had explained to him the Order of the Phoenix and asked if he was willing to fight. Oliver had since then passed information onto the Order from Scotland, patrolled Hogsmeade at night and spent more than a little time in Muggle pubs listening to news and doing his own investigations into murders. Whatever Wood had expected when he took NEWT Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, this was not it. He'd left the League after the Ministry fell, a protest to the sacking of Muggle-born players and his own safety after he was abducted on his way home from the pitch, resulting in his half-finished scar.

Now, he found himself naked and alone in the bathroom of the flat his ex-girlfriend shared with her Death Eater boyfriend. It had been a very long night, Wood decided after he found himself glaring at the pair of toothbrushes next to the sink that he thought looked too cozy together.

Angelina laid out a hot cup of tea, a flagon on pumpkin juice and toast with butter and a bit of melted chocolate when Oliver emerged from the bedroom. Oliver smiled when he saw it, recalling how much she was detested his weird habit when they were together, but she had remembered the chocolate tonight... He sat and ate slowly, careful chews due to his aching jaw.

"Feel better?" Angelina inquired, laying her hand atop of his.

Wood allowed himself a moment to weakness to enjoy her touch, "I do now. Thank you for your hospitality, I know these are dangerous times. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"You were right. Graham is involved in some Dark things, I can't deny that, but I know his heart and I know why he does it. He avoided getting the mark as long as he could. He believes... _we believe _that with Dumbledore gone... the one guarantee we have of survival in this new world is if Graham holds a place among them. He keeps us safe at great personal cost. But he's never killed anyone."

Angelina saw something shutter in Wood's eyes, but was prevented from studying it when a small silver dragon floated into her kitchen and spoke with Charlie Weasley's voice, "Team safe. Five Dead. Lay Low."

Oliver could feel Angelina's gaze pleading for details that he didn't want to revisit. After a long silence, Oliver explained, "We were sent to protect some muggles. Their kids had been written about attending Hogwarts, the letters get sent automatically to every child with magic in the country. The Death Eaters wanted to... make an example of what happened to the 'usurpers of wizard's magic'."

"They killed them?"

"They tried, only five are dead...six alive," Oliver said as if the number saved could make up for those dead, "One of them was a little girl... maybe six or seven, no clue about magic beyond a Muggle fantasy." Wood smiled for a second, "One of them was going to Cruciate her... a little girl no higher than my waist, Angelina. _Cassius Warrington _was going to torture a child."

Angelina was stunned into silence. She had never liked Cassius and Montague had given up the acquaintance shortly after graduation at her request. But while she thought him rude and boorish, she never imagined someone she went to school with and knew would be capable of such acts. She was shocked into silence again when Oliver spoke again.

"I killed him."

He sounded so broken and within seconds he was sobbing into his arms, shoulder's shaking with every shaky breath, "AK was too good for him, too quick and painless. I pummeled him with my fists and my feet... I felt his nose break under my trainers and felt when his shoulder dislocated... I beat a man to death and I feel no remorse for it. What does that make me, Angel?"

Angelina didn't know what to say, for there were no words that could bring him comfort. Oliver wept at the loss of his innocence and sense of self, while Angelina hurt for the pain he was in. She walked around the counter to wrap her arms around Oliver and held him as sobs wrecked his body. She had seen Oliver cry only once before in Oliver's first year as the sole Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and they'd lost the Cup. But his tears then were superficial and the disappointment of a child, these were the hot angry tears of a man fighting for his life, as well as his soul.

The morning sun was high in the sky by the time Angelina woke up the next morning. Her neck was sore from the way it had lolled back against the top of the sofa in her sleep and her leg was tingling due to the weight of Oliver's head which was cradled there. He was nearly too large for the sofa and his legs dangled off the other end carelessly. His face was calm and serene in sleep, but she could make out the dried tear tracks on his cheeks and noticed how, even in sleep, his hand rested on his hip near where his wand was concealed. Angelina moved carefully to slide out from under Oliver's head and left a pillow in its place. He continued to sleep so Angelina took the time to shower and change into fresh clothing.

When she emerged from the bedroom, she found Oliver foraging in her cupboard. He emerged with a packet of biscuits and gave her a small smile as he popped one in his mouth. Angelina noted that his color had returned overnight and she could see faint marks where he'd splinched his arms, but the raw new skin already seemed to be months old, not hours. However, his eyes were still holding the haunted quality she'd seen last night.

Angelina made a split-second decision and crossed the room to wrap her arms around Oliver's neck and gently bring his mouth to meet hers in a brief kiss. It was no longer or deeper than their first kiss had been, quick enough to make Wood believe he'd imagined it when she rested her lips against the stubble on his cheek. She relaxed against him, and held him tightly against her. Wood dropped the biscuits and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly as if she'd vanish.

"I know you better than most and, while I do not know everything you've done, I know you did it for the greater good. You're heart is strong and full of love, you protected a little girl from a monster and you are no less of a man for what you did. You're a brilliant man and I have always loved that about you," She murmured lightly so her breath tickled his earlobe as he took in the sincerity of her words. She felt the tension leaving his body as she held him and when they pulled apart she could make out the glimmer of the old Oliver Wood. An Oliver who would unexpectedly pull her out of crowded corridors as she passed to snog in a deserted passageway. Angelina laid another gentle kiss on each of his cheeks and lips.

Oliver stared at her for a long moment before he took a step backwards to increase the distance between them, as if afraid he would fall back into her arms if he stood too close. He turned his back on her and stared out the window overlooking the street below where her muggle neighbors began to move about their day. Angelina watched him, waiting for him to speak and wondering when Oliver had changed into his hardened fighter from the affable Quidditch player she recalled and if he could ever go back to the man he was before the war.

When Oliver turned back around, his eyes betrayed no emotion, "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Oliver-" Angelina began, but he cut her off.

"You saved my life last night and I would be much obliged if you didn't tell anyone I was here. It'll be safest that way," Oliver turned to leave, but Angelina reached out quickly to grab his hand, needing him to understand.

"I don't know what you've been doing Oliver, but don't think less of me for what I'm doing. I'm keeping my family safe and I'm staying alive, Wood. I love Graham, I know you know that and I know it hurts you, but I love him more than life itself and he loves me. It's great to play the hero when you're only risking yourself, but I've got someone to watch out for and I won't put his life on the line for a war we can't win. I will not sacrifice my husband."

"Husband?" Oliver's voice was barely above a whisper, but Angelina knew she would've heard it in the middle of the Word Cup.

"Husband," Angelina confirmed, trying to keep a brave face and met his eyes to show how serious she was.

Oliver chose his words carefully, unsure of how long he could control his temper, "There's a war out there, Angel, and I'm fighting it while you hide away with your Falcon Death Eater _husband," _he spat the word with disgust, "Have you seen George recently? He lost his ear, cursed off in battle. Potter is who knows where and I can only pray that he's not dead and rotting in the middle of some Scottish moor. You shouldn't be hiding in some muggle flat in Cornwall, you should be fighting! Remember who the hell you are, Angel, you're a fucking lioness, not a coward."

Oliver didn't stay to see her reaction when she finally overcame the numbing shock of his words. He didn't even stay long enough for the sick feeling of guilt to settle over him, which it did shortly after he Apparated to a small village far from Cornwall and Angelina Johnson.

A week later, Angelina moved to London and into Fred and George's flat above their boarded-up shop in Diagon Alley; the twins had long abandoned it to go into hiding with their family and Alicia had given her a key when she showed up at her doorstep in tears needing a place to stay. Angelina laid her bags in the sitting room, while keeping an eye on the sealed boxes scattered around the room that carried the bright logo of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes still flashing underneath a layer of dust. Skirting some questionable piles of debris and burn marks, Angelina moved into the kitchen to make herself a calming cup of tea. She set the kettle onto the stove and found a canister of good tea leaves that seemed safe in the back of a near empty cupboard. While waiting for the water to boil, Angelina removed from her pocket a single golden Galleon and spun it on the counter like a top. When it stopped spinning and fell flat, Angelina could clearly read the words that had appeared the other evening: 'Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting'.

It was time for her to remember who she was.


End file.
